Nolitari All right, I must admit that you have redeemed yourself and ARE NOT LAZY! It would seem that our posts always hit you at a time when storms come or maybe they deliver the storm and post at the same time? I'll have to think about that. And I'm glad to hear that you don't drool, nasty habit that. And I am just loving the whole Dr. Estel thing. Keep reading!

faeriekittie306 animeloverI never threw anything at you ever! And Denethor didn't know if she was or not that is why he asked. If you go back to the whole tower room scene with the seeing stone and if you read what Sauron says, then you should get it. Keep reading!

Chicky Poo You'll have to wait and see about Emily and don't assume that she is because people ask. Keep reading!

AthranZallaLover : Nice review! Review again soon!

PlainAndSimpleLunch Lady Surprise? That sounds…interesting. I love the whole Elladan tattoo mystery thing, it was my idea! I love it when my idea's are good.

Winkle: Sir, you didn't think of it! It's merely the truth! Besides, you said that you wouldn't tell about the other one unless he gave permission for you to. You're not going back on your word are you?

Snodgrass : Of course not! Here Plainandsimple, sent some more donuts. (Shoves a donut into Winkles mouth and walks away huffily)

Eruanna92 : Mr. Ticehurst our third office man is the same way, that's why nobody knows about him!

AmfmchicYes, it is awesome. Woot!

Slayer3 : They like being shut up in your room? I don't think so, and we're sending over the EPS (the Elf Protective Service) to free them from your evil clutches ! Mwhahahahah! And yes, Relient K is awesome!

Siriusly Sirius Lily BlackYou will have to wait like everyone else to find out about Emily. And it was great to hear from you after so long! Hadrien is in this chapter! And about Denethor? Well, madness is funny thing that sane people don't fully understand.

Mr. Ticehurst: (mumbling) You can say that again!

Snodgrass : Ticehurst! You actually spoke! Do it again!

Mr. Ticehurst: (silence reigns and crickets chirp)

Elvin BlueEyesPossessed? Eep! How would that happen? Oh, Sauron's wicked influence you mean? Yeah, that would be bad. Keep reading.

Primevera TookNaughty Hobbit! Bad hobbit to miss a chapter! Shame, shame! But…the cakes are lovely! We forgive you!

Ty-Kwan-Do We're so glad to hear from you dear! And as to Orlando Bloom making that name up? Well, remember that he is not the real PRINCE OF MIRKWOOD! Green Tea SoBe and Cappuccino Mocha Ice Cream" Hummm sounds scrumptious!

Erasuithiel : Family curse ah? Well, that's rather interesting and thank you so much for the encouragement about the story. Winkle needs constant ego inflation. And as to page 27? I have no idea.

chelseypudge Edge of your seat? Well I should say that we did our job rather well. Keep reading!

AJ : Thank so much for saying we're a favorite! We love that kind of thing, by the way, if you know any other fics as good, can you give us names because it is soooo hard to find ones worth reading!

Pancake : This is just a sneaking suspicion but are you (by any chance) a Brian Jacques fan? As in Redwall and Martin the Warrior? I love those books and so do Ticehurst and Winkle. Keep reading!

AnnamariahWinkle loves the whole "Path of the Dead" (blast of icy wind) thing and he edited that part himself, so he thanks you personally. And the people in POTC weren't scary at all! I mean really how fake can you be? Not you I mean the people who made POTC. And I felt bad for Denethor in the book version, in the movie, well, I think he deserved everything he got! Hurmph!

Indigo-Moon : I hate error messages! They always appear when I am having a great read of something or other. (Places the World's Funniest Fan Fiction trophy on the mantle piece and admires his reflection in the shiny gold surface.) I should say that the while "Off with her head" thing is NOT the way to win over the man of your dreams. That is if you haven't already forced into marriage on pain of death. Keep reading lovey!

Carlithirel Amarantha Darling, we think of these things long before you ever do! But of course that doesn't mean that they never happened. Thanks for the suit ( admires himself in the mirror again and Winkle straightens his t-shirt carefully under his rumbled brown suit coat.) And stop bragging about going to Florida because it makes me jealous inside. I have just begun reading "A Wrinkle In Time" out loud to Winkle and Ticehurst against their wills. It's a great book!

AraelMoonchild : Great to hear from you! I hope you like this chapter as well! Because if you DON'T ( eyes a box full of stale, custard-filled donuts and those revolting cinnamon peppermints they give you at Pizza Hut)….you get the picture.

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Chapter 28

The Rigmarole of Silver Trumpets

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Boromir's POV.

The skulls are now knee deep. The dust is incredible as the grinning trophies continue to slide down in an awesome avalanche of bones, on and on. There seems to be no end to them, and I fight to keep my footing as the shaking ground disappears under the skulls.

The place where we stood but a few minutes ago is buried completely out of sight. The "King" of Dimholt and his men are gone. Twice traitors, may Eru send them to the Void for their foul betrayal!

I plunge ahead, scarcely able to see through the clouds of dusts, which fill my eyes. Tears run down my face as I try to blink it away. I could be going in the completely wrong direction and not know it.

"Run! Get out now!" I turn, following Aragorn's shout, muffled under the thunderous roar as the cavalcade of skulls actually seems to increase. I am beginning to think I can see a faint glimmer of light ahead, when I heard another, different kind of shout. More of a cry really, and I realize who it is.

"Barbara!" I yell, looking desperately around.

A sort of squeaking seems to come from my right, and I began shoveling through the skulls. I am rewarded when my hand touches armor. I grab onto it, and yank. Barbara comes tumbling out as I drag her by her shoulder, over the bones, towards the light. It seems to be growing stronger.

Suddenly, we burst into the sunlight, white and blinding, and I trip, collapsing on the ground. Dust coats my throat and mouth in a dry, thick layer and pure, sweet air rushes into my aching lungs as I cough furiously.

"T-thanks." Barbara wheezes out.

I stand up as my eyes adjust to the light and my vision begins to clear. We have left the caves behind us, at last. But the sight that greets us now in hundred times, a thousand times worse.

"Corsair ships." I whisper, my heart sinking at the sight.

There has to be thirty of the black-sailed vessels, all crowded with men. There seems be no end to the fleet, which lines the river. And with a sudden premonition, I look towards Gondor, towards the White City. A dark cloud lines the horizon-and then it hits me-it isn't a cloud. It is smoke, rising from Minas Tirith, our last hope.

And I am powerless to do anything. To attack the ships would be useless. There must be a hundred or more corsair on every ship…ships going to my city, the city where my wife could even now- I choke the thought back. She can't be dead.

Despair fills my heart, and I looked to Aragorn-heir to a city that is burning, and one who should have been King. He has dropped to his knees, a hopelessness darkening his eyes, a look of one who has given everything, and lost.

"Sometimes it's the quiet ones that win out in the end, not the braggarts."

Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Slowly, we all turned in unison. There, robes flickering a little in a breeze unfelt by us, was the King of the Dead.

"We will fight."

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Eomer's POV

As we reach the brink of the hill I give the order to any men with a horn to blow such as blast that it will shake fear into the foul beings that crowd Pelennor fields.

"Eomer! Take your éored down the left flank! Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center! Grimbold, take your company right, after you pass the wall!" Theoden shouts. "Hadrien, carry on to the city gates!"

Calling the scant hundreds into ranks is difficult but by the time my uncle speaks we all listen with our hearts to the last words we may ever hear. I feel pride and love for my uncle swell in my heart as I hear his kingly words,

"Forth! And fear no darkness! Arise! Arise, Riders of Théoden!" He calls and we answer with a cry that leaps straight from our souls. I feel wrath coursing through me as I think of the faces of the men that died at Helm's Deep of the helpless villagers that were slain…I think of my cousin Theodred who should be leading the charge at his father's side.

"Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword day...a red day...and the sun rises!"

We lower our spears and raise our sword high, the white horse of Rohan raised proudly above our heads and for the moment the snapping of the cloth is the only sound we hear. Theoden lifts his sword and rides down the line, the sight of the traditional rite shows that he does not expect us to all survive this encounter. So be it, I will die with them, I know that if we all die that Eowyn will lead Rohan with wisdom.

I cannot help but wish that I parted with more love on the part of my sister, but she turned a cold shoulder to my farewell. I would not fear for death yet for this unfinished farewell. All thoughts of her leave as my uncle calls us one last time.

"Ride now...Ride now...Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!"

"Death!"

With the cry of death ringing in our hearts we charge across the vast spread of Pelennor fields. The sound of our beasts gallop is enough to cause havoc in the orcs as their ranks as we thunder through taking the fouls beasts to the abyss. Leaderless and faithless the orc scatter or flee, only a few fight in return, we spend more time chasing them then out right fighting. Many die with an arrows lodged in their backs.

I set free all the rage and hatred that I have kept inside and unleash death as I ride through them. Never have I felt such power in my body and none could stand before my spear, all the years of war and practice have come into play but no longer is it a game, but real blood and death that I deal out. It is for my sister, for my cousin, for my uncle for the world's ending.

Death!

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Barbie's POV.

Imagine this. You get a phone call that your house is on fire, with your sister, and a bunch of your friends trapped inside. They are your last to defense against the Big Bad Guy who is currently bent on taking over the world. By the way, he has sent his henchmen, and they are attacking the house, with the purpose to KAD ( kill and destroy.)

Of course you begin to run to your car…but say this gang has stolen your keys, and you have to persuade them to return the keys first. Then you get in your car…after the gang helps you to empty it of cockroaches the size of a hamburger. You can see the smoke on the horizon, and you sister is on the phone, sending frantic messages ( oh my god, they're coming through the windows, they have axes, oh gosh)

It's about then you discover that you are out of gas. There are no BP's for the next two hundred miles, and the phone is ominously silent.

This was our situation.

Dear God, if you can please, please, please help us I promise I will be the perfect girl. I will not annoy Boromir, tease Legolas or Gimli, I will be respectful to Aragorn, I will not tag along with the twins, I will be extra nice to the slaves…freed peoples… and not mention the fact they really need a bath. I will be docile and apologize to Eomer for running away, I will return this sword to it's owner. We just need a breeze! God, I have my sister in that city, friends, all our hopes are in that city. I will do anything, ok, just send some help."

I stopped for a minute, and realized I was gripping the railing of the ship so tight my knuckles were literally white. What a minute, maybe it should be "Eru".

"Eru, please, please, please…etc.

It was difficult to pray while the "freed peoples" were dumping the bodies overboard. They were weighing them down with chains, and they would cheer every time one would hit the water. So finally I gave up, and slumped down on the deck, watching them with morbid interest. Splash, whoomp, sploosh…

"Oh, yuck!" I jumped up, with the disgusting realization I had been sitting in a puddle of blood. "This is so sick. I already need new clothes, I've been swamped in skulls today, and now I'm covered in blood. Agh!"

In actuality I was trying very hard not to cry. I do not cry in crises. My mom and my sisters do that, while I try to maintain my cool. I remember during a tornado warning, my whole family was in our hallway, and all I could think of was "Now, after all of this is over, I can go and finish that thing I was working on. I wonder what we're going to have for dinner.

But now I couldn't do that. I couldn't say "after" because I wasn't sure if there would be an after. Why couldn't we just sail up the river like everyone thinks they did? I had started reading the Return of the King, but with school and all, I hadn't been able to finish it before….everything.

"Why can't things ever be easy!" I said aloud to myself. "Why can't life be like a film where all the bloopers are edited out and you can always retake a scene!"

"Excuse me?"

Elrohir was passing me, dragging a body with him. He was doing his level best to not actually touch the revolting cadaver while getting rid of it. I was already dirty enough so I grabbed the unfortunate corsairs by his scruffy sea boots, and with no compunction whatsoever, helped to heave the limp body over the side.

"Goodbye." I said automatically, watching it disappear. It was weird, but by that time I was feeling weird. The caves, the skulls, the blood, the bodies, it was just too much. And now my sister could be getting killed because we didn't have a stupid breeze.

"Barbara, what's wrong?" Elrohir grabbed my arm, as I sank to my knees, and I rested my head against the railings. I was starting to cry, when his question hit me.

"What do you mean you idiot!" I said, wrenching away, as the tears ran down my face "We risk our lives, we have the ships and we're stuck! I'm tired, my sister's in a doomed city, I'm covered with blood and you are asking me what's wrong?"

I was starting to think I had finally lost my grip. I had imagined all of this, I was in a fantasy world and I had cracked. I was vaguely aware that Elrohir was talking to me, and he was taking me by the hand. By the time he had taken my into one of the cabins, I was already half dead on my feet, and still crying. I collapsed onto one of the bunk beds there, ignoring the fact that my pillow smelled like beer and tobacco.

I had tried, hard. But it finally seemed we had lost all hope. And I curled under the stale blankets, and cried, finally falling asleep, still aware of the heartbreaking fact…we had failed… we had failed…

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Denethor's POV

"Boromir, I will not allow you to go on some foolhardy journey to Rivendell and that is final! Faramir can go in your place just as well."

"Father, I will not allow you to send him away just because you cannot control your anger! Faramir is a Captain with honor and duties that call him to remain!"

"You are Gondor's general Boromir, how much more do you have to look after? Your brother is nothing and therefore more readily spared."

"How can you say that about your son? Your own flesh and blood?"

"Because he is weak!"

"Compassion is not weakness, he would last through trials that would ruin me. I do not understand why you blind yourself to it.

"You speak to me of blindness? Really Boromir…"

"What is that supposed to mean?

"You don't want him to go anymore then I do, and it is because you want to go yourself. You need to have the answer to this dream, I see it eating away at you and you blind yourself to it."

"Why would I blind myself Father? What would be the purpose?"

"The other dreams."

"How do you know?"

"I know everything that goes on within the walls of Minas Tirith."

"I have not even told Faramir of them…"

"He is your confidant even before me? Have I not reason to dislike the Wizard's pupil?"

"Your son!"

"So have I lost you to the wizard as well?"

"Gandalf came to help you and all you can do is whine about the fact that other people trust him and depend on him for guidance." She paused , "Boromir trusted him."

Oh, that my last thoughts should be tainted by remorse for such as this! I did my best for my sons and later my daughter, they never understood.

"You truly believe that Gondor can be saved?"

"I choose to hope for the best." she said, "I want to hope."

Such a foolish hope, nothing to look for, not even this Aragorn. But as I sleep in this cocoon of flames I think it is a pity that we could not have saved Gondor.

"I don't ask you to seek council in Gandalf, but inside yourself. Remember whose blood flows through your veins, you are of such a noble line that you can surely defend Gondor as the kings of old did. More depends on you then you know."

I am sorry indeed that the blood of the Hurin house has failed, but I am too old to continue to fight for a dream that died long ago.

So long ago…

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Gandalf's POV.

The doors of the hall slammed shut with an enormous gust of heated air. A dull explosions followed. The fire must have burned through the straw, and reached the oil-soaked wood at last.

I am walking away, as a great, terrible cry reaches us, and then a silence. As wounded and sick as he is, Faramir starts in my arms, muttering a single, incoherent word. I know what it is.

Father

What kind of a father does this? I am bearing Faramir as swiftly as I can to the Houses of Healing. He should have been brought there hours ago. Instead his wounds have slowly crusted over, clotted with his own blood. His eyes are bright with fever, and his skin is a pale, sickly color, dangerously hot to the touch.

"Is he going to die?" Pippin asks fearfully, hurrying to keep up with me. I open my mouth to reply, and then shut it.

"I don't know. Peregrin, go and tell Ioreth that Captain Faramir is seriously wounded; he has several chest wounds and a very high fever."

Silently Pippin mouths the words "several chest wounds and a high fever" and then takes off like an arrow from a bow, dodging dead bodies, and simply jumping over others. Good hobbit. Ever since volunteering his services to Denethor, he has taken his responsibilities more seriously than I have ever seen him take anything.

When I finally reach the House of Healing, the Warden meets me in the midst of the courtyard. His normally calm, stolid face looks haggard, and it whitens as he sees how badly Faramir is hurt.

"Oh, no." he says, shaking his head in denial "Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, Eru not this."

"Where's Ioreth?" I demand, this no time for delay.

"She's far too busy, she's been run off her feet and she won't sit down for even an instant. I'll-find somewhere that you can put him."

"Then hurry man!"

I follow him through the hallways, as Faramir begins to struggle, murmuring in his delirium. They are so low and jumbled I can barely make out what they are. But a fear begins to grow in my heart. I have seen others like this, those touched by the dark evil of the Nazgul.

And yet-and yet something seems terribly wrong, Faramir met the Nazgul a few days ago. If he was affected by them, he should have shown it earlier. Then a small voice reminds me. He did show it earlier.

The night of his encounter, I remember how tired he was. There was a look in his eyes, and I would have said something to Denethor, but I did not. He was already suspicious of me trying to steal Faramir away from him. Now I regret my silence. But I cannot dwell on the past, not now.

"In here."

The Warden leads the way into a small, quiet room; a bed, a small table and a window, nothing else. I gently lay Faramir onto the bed. He is silent, but still restless, as if searching for something. The Warden paused a moment, and laid a pale hand on Faramir's forehead.

"I'll get Ioreth." he says in a low voice, but he practically runs from the room.

I know why too, for Faramir's fever has only increased, and sweat is pouring down his face. And I am helpless in the face of it, since I am not a healer. And I realize, listening to the sounds of battle raging outside, that the battle for his life has only just begun.

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Theoden's POV

"And so Théoden someday when you are king you will be responsible for all of Rohan, not just Edoras." Thengol said gesturing over the wide spread fields.

"But it's so big Father! How can a little boy like me take care of everyone in Rohan? If I was big and brave like you I could." the boy by Thengol's side pouted.

The older man knelt and laid his hands on his son's shoulders and looked into blue eyes that mirrored his own. "Theoden, you have all the bravery you need deep inside of you. Do you know why?" Thengol asked.

The boy thought about it, screwing his little face in his effort to understand his father. Finally he sighed and candidly said. "No. I don't know why."

"Because in your veins flows the blood of kings. Kings that reach back as far in the past as the beginnings of Rohan herself. This passes onto you all the power and bravery that you will ever need to have to defend your land. The people will look to you when I am gone."

"Where are you going Papa?" asked the boy lacing his hand into his father's. Thengol smiled and lifted his son to rest on his shoulders, "No where for many years I hope, but the time will come when you're the king. I trust that you will."

"Oh I will, I'll be the best king of Rohan ever!" boasted the pint sized prince.

"Remember Theoden, pride goes before a fall." cautioned Thengol.

"What's that mean Papa?" Theoden asked, he gave a shriek as he was suddenly swept from his safe perch and through the air. He grasped for a hold on anything to find himself safe in his father's arms.

Thengol laughed and said, "That my little prince is what I mean, you thought you were safe didn't you? Well, you need to always be on your guard because an attack can come at any moment from any side and you must ever be ready."

Theoden looked around the hillock they stood on and said, "I never let nobody get me! Not ever again! Not even you Papa!" and with that the tyke hurled himself at his father and they fall to the grass laughing and wrestling in the sunlight.

vyvyv

It was curious, Théoden thought, everyone always said that your life flashes before you when death came. All that he could see or remember was his father and that day in the fields.

Funny, the things you remember, nothing that really counts in the whole scope life perhaps, but feelings remain… the feeling of safety and happiness survived the test of time.

All the pain was gone now and all he could think of were the days he was with his family. So long ago now that he couldn't even recall most of his siblings faces. His sister…his pretty golden haired sister he remembered her. As if she was before him now he saw him.

"I know your face." he gasped. She smiled and nodded as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Eowyn…"

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Galley Slave's POV

It was odd, I reflected, that all I seemed to be able to concentrate on was the deep, crimson pool of blood that stained the deck. Orlan, the corsair, Orlan the slave driver who yet clutched the hated whip in one, bony hand, was dead. He was crumpled up in the throes of death, mouth still open. A sword had swiftly cut off his scream of fear, and he had died quickly.

All around me the other slaves were weeping with fear. Others like myself were still paralyzed, frozen by the memory of what had happened. It was like…it was like a cold wind, howling through the ship. Shapes of what were once men, had swept through, their faces, what looked to be faces, contorted with a terrifying rage. All bore weapons, and their eyes were like white, hollow fire. But they had not touched us, though I do not know why.

Rella, the slave chained next to me, had screamed with fright, and cowered against me, as much as her chains allowed her. Like all of us, she had been assigned and then shackled to a specific oar. You worked in twelve hour shifts, no matter how old or young, sick or tired. And like all of us, her back was covered with the cruel marks of the whip. You rowed to the whip, woke to the whip and eventually died under it.

"They're gone. They're gone." I said dully, and patted her arm. She continued to sob uncontrollably, tears coursing down her thin, young face.

"W-what were those things Aman?" she whispered, breath coming in jerks. I took her hand in mine, realizing that my own was trembling violently, and I gripped hers all the more firmly.

"I do not…' I swallowed hard "I do not know. But I promise Rella, I promise if anything happens I'll make sure you're safe. You have my oath as a knight."

She nodded, and stopped crying, leaning against me. And then it was quiet. Except for few slaves who were still whimpering softly, it was completely silent. After the screams of dying men, and all the sounds of war, the quiet seemed very loud.

Suddenly footsteps trod the deck above. I strained to hear. They were not the heavy thump of corsair boots. Nor could they be orc. Eru, what was it?

"A…girl." I said, and blinked a few times.

There, standing on the steps that led up onto the upper decks, was a girl, in what I recognized as Rohirric armor. She held a Rohirric sword, but she was dark-haired, and short.

"And an elf." the girl said, as if nothing was wrong. There was indeed an elf next to her, but although he was also dark-haired, he had to duck under the low entrance.

"Greetings, friends, I am Elrohir of Rivendell. You have nothing to fear, for we come in peace. But…" the elf paused a moment "It would be helpful to know where the keys are."

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Emily's POV

Have you ever worked so hard that you feel as if you never did anything else? If you have you'll understand what I'm talking about when I say that I couldn't remember why or how I came to Middle Earth only that I was carrying pot after pot of boiling water and oil and dumping it over some…things on the other side of the wall.

Gosh my arms hurt!

Not to mention that my stupid dress got in the way of everything I was trying to do! Finally one of the women had shown me how to loop it up into my belt and because the long was so full it still went passed my knees! At least I had more freedom of movement.

And by the way, do not knock the women in skirts everyone because trust me, we have it way harder then you chicks in slacks do. You have no idea how much I wish I had my denim skirt right then.

I know this will sound weird, but all I could think of was the troll attack in Moria. Remember I was the one that hid behind a rock most of the time while the fellowship was getting creamed? Right, well that was me. Now with the stink of burning troll bodies in my nose , all I can say is that Moria was a walk in the park compared to this encounter.

Oh, blissful moment when Rohan's horns blasted across the plain, for a second the attack on us stalled and we all (orcs and us) looked out and saw the gleaming army banners waving.

Coming from the east with perfect timing it looked as if they had dragged the sun along with them, because that selfsame orange ball came beaming over the horizon. I was never so glad to see her, even if I would have wrinkles someday because of too much sun.

We all began whooping and hollering and hugging and crying when I remembered something.

"Silver trumpets…we need to find the silver trumpets and …and the bells, we have to ring the bells!" I said. I grabbed the arm of the girl called Melba and headed for the citadel.

"We need to answer with the trumpets and someone has to ring the bells." I shouted as we dodged falling debris.

"But all the men are fighting, there's no one to blow the trumpets!" she answered.

"If you can blow air ring the bells, I'll try the trumpets with anyone I can find, just get us there."

Whoever thought it was a swell idea to make Gondor a maze should be shot and that's all I'm saying. Thank God that the instruments were all together, Melba and some other boys we had found jumped on the strings and the sound thundered around us.

I tagged a few more "willing helpers" and grabbing a horn each we blew as hard as we could. As the blast soared through the air clear and crisp as an autumn morning.

Have you ever seen it ? White tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. It's banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?

Well, they would if I had anything to do with it, by jingo!

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Legolas's POV

Running my hands along the smooth wood the bow and my eyes follow the lines of the sagging sails. The lazy waves lap at the sides of our vessel as if they are too weary to aid us.

Barbara weeps, Elrohir and Elladan row with the men and Gimli is uncharacteristically helping the freed slaves tend their wounds. I feel oddly detached to the people here and then a breath of air comes and a voice,

"Thranduilion, it is time."

I know in my heart that I have reached the point in my life that will never come again and breathing deeply I reach out in prayer. My pleas have never gone unheard and never were they more vital then this moment.

"Illuvatar, send your breath to speed us to the aid of our friends. No longer will I remain without thought of Valinor and your presence. Please…

A squeal behind me comes as Barbara is knocked from her perch by a massive gush of salty pure sea air. The roars that a thousand lions and the sail billow like black clouds. Throwing my hands up I cannot help but laugh as we are driven with great force toward Gondor.

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Hadrien's POV

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness or the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."

As we near the city somewhere high above our heads the clear blast of trumpets breaks the gloom and sends the orcs screaming back as they cover their ears against the sound. My men and I charge through them and cut them down in scores. I had no idea the damage they could do to my mother city.

I never thought to come to Minas Tirith because of war, but now I see her gleaming like a pearl despite the smoke and fire I know why Lord Aragorn loves her. I understand why Boromir would die to defend her. And I know deep in my heart I will do the same if it is asked of me this day.

Ragged defenses around the walls of the third city ring is all I can see of Gondor's men. A strange smell is blown on the breeze; singed flesh and burning corpses.

"Haleth, take the right flank and come around the gate as I lead the charge and stay close to the wall away from their arrows." I heard myself shouting. Urging my horse onward I bring my flail down on the skull of one of the foul scum that threaten us. A satisfying crunch follows and I go on to the next and the next.

They have trolls I know, but it seems that they are all in the higher rings breaking down doors and obstacles that the orcs cannot. The roads are littered with the bodies of fallen Gondorian soldiers with wounds that only teeth and claws make. It makes me sick to think of the beasts feasting upon men and youth who they should have shuddered in fear from.

The Rohirrim pour into the streets and any orc stupid enough to show its face is cut down, but they raise the alarm to the others farther up the city. We're met by a fierce attack and a road barred by overturned wagons and handcarts. I urge my horse on faster and we clear the barricade with ease.

Unquestioningly my men follow me and even in the thick of battle we triumph against them. Some men fall but for everyone who does at least ten times that number of the enemy fall too. No sacrifice is made that does not move us closer and closer to the gates that the trolls beat in fury.

Then even I watched the trolls are bathed in a steaming cascade of boiling oil and they die quickly, much more quickly then is their just right. What remains of the orcs are dashed away by our spears and never before has my flail worked with such deadly speed.

Just when I am sure that victory is ours we find ourselves corned by orc reinforcements, and soon overwhelming odds begin to cut us down. With a cry I hurl myself into them I will not let my men die in vain.

Suddenly pain explodes in my chest and I fall without breath and my vision blackens.